It's Good To Be King
by lapislaz
Summary: These things just always seem to happen to John, and he never sees them coming.


"Rodney, they think I'm their King."

"Oh, and I suppose you never saw this one coming, either? Just once I'd like to go on an away mission where someone thinks I am the King, or Savior, or whatever high honor they've got open that week. Why can't I be one of The Old Ones, The Blue Ones, The Ones That Left Us Here?" Rodney quickened his pace down the path, praying that the moon wouldn't set until he got where he was going. "Hold on for just a few more minutes Your High Mucketymuckness. Ronon and Teyla are on their way, and we'll get you out of there."

"No rush, Rodney. They're bowing. I don't think they're going to hurt me."

"They never want to hurt you. Until they do. It's like there's some weird pheromone you put out that initially makes people want to cuddle you, but prolonged exposure makes them want to scalp you. Or maybe they just want to cuddle your hair." The life signs detector in his hands showed Rodney a group of signatures ahead of him, possibly as many as 30 to 40 people. All of those life signs surrounded the one he had tagged as "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard", but didn't seem to be converging on it. This was good, but could change at any moment. Rodney was not optimistic that the situation would remain stable, simply because his life so far had taught him that left to themselves, things would always go from bad to worse. As far as Rodney was concerned, the glass was not only half empty, but the water was actually nitric acid and the bottom was about to fall out of the glass.

"Oh wow…"

"Oh wow? What does that mean? I know what I mean when I say it, but what do you mean when you say it?"

"It means I just got a present."

"Don't touch it!"

"Too late, Rodney. Cool." John's voice was full of amusement. "I just got crowned."

"Oh shit - what's happening? Are you OK? Did anything explode? Don't panic!" Rodney picked up his pace into a trot.

"I'm not panicking, Rodney. That's your job. But it's OK - all it did was light up like a Christmas tree. You should see it. I haven't seen anything like this since we left Antarctica."

"I am not panicking. I'm expressing justified concern for your safety and well-being, Lieutenant Colonel Your Kingshipness. Can you take it off? See if you can take it off."

"Yeah, but when I do the lights go off and the natives stop dancing and get real nervous. I think they like the pretty lights. I'm putting it back on." As Rodney heard that, a faint glow blossomed in the trees ahead of him. "OK, that's better. They've calmed down now."

"I saw that. I must be getting close. So what are they doing now?"

"Looks like they're starting the party. They're pouring liquid into mugs and passing them around the circle. And look, here's mine."

"Oh for God's sake, don't drink it. It's probably full of the local equivalent of strychnine Kool-Aid. If someone starts babbling about going home to Heaven, shoot to kill and get out of there."

"I'm not going to shoot _anyone_ unless I absolutely have to, Rodney. No one has even so much as insulted my mother, much less threatened me. Hmmm, kinda smells like…cherries. Everyone else is drinking and dancing, and no one's falling down." A distorted slurping noise came through his headset. "OK, wow, that's lethal."

"LETHAL? Fuck, dump it out and run your finger down your throat…" Rodney was getting closer to the light show and put his head down to run at his fastest speed. "I'm almost there. I'm sending Teyla and Ronon back for Beckett."

"Whoa, Rodney, I'm fine. When I said lethal, I meant it's got enough alcohol in it to kill an elephant. Not that I'm poisoned. It may taste like cherries, but it's got a kick like a mule." Another scratchy slurp sounded in his ear. "Hmm, grows on ya though. I'll save you a mug."

"Oh please, I am not going to drink that swill, and you shouldn't be drinking it either. What if you're allergic?" The lights through the trees began resolving into individual rays of color, dancing madly through the night. "What the hell are you wearing on your head - a disco ball?"

"It's my crown, Rodney. Show some respect for the regalia, if not the guy wearing it. When they put it on my head, it just started making the damnedest light show this side of McMurdo and they started prancing around like it was Studio 54. Gloria Gaynor would pay a fortune for this thing. Are you close yet?"

Stopping behind a large tree trunk, Rodney surveyed the clearing. A small fire burned to one side, and a large group of people were dancing around and watching the crown-thingy on John's head coruscate. "Yeah, I'm here. Look over to your right. I'm going to turn on my mag-lite twice, very quickly." Rodney fished the flashlight out of his vest and aimed it at John. "Once. Twice. There, see it?"

"Yeah, got it. OK, what's the plan? Remember, so far these folks are friends. Other than being very insistent about me wearing the crown and staying for the party, it's all been grins and giggles."

"Plan? What do you mean, plan? That's your department! You come up with the plan, I execute it brilliantly, and wham, we go home!" Just then he saw one of the natives fall down, spilling the contents of the mug in his hand over the forest floor. "Oh shit, it really is poison!"

"Chill out, Rodney, he's laying there laughing. I'm just guessing, but I'd say he's drunk as a skunk. They're all well on the way to being plastered. And fortunately, it doesn't look like any of them is a mean drunk." Even as Rodney watched, another one of the group crumpled to the ground, his fall broken by two friends who followed him down into a heap of jovial drunkenness.

"You know what, Rodney? I've got a plan."

"Yeah? What's the plan?"

"I stand right here and do absolutely nothing. Same for you."

"You call that a plan? I call that a lousy…" Rodney stopped for a moment. "That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

"Yeah, but it's gonna work. I'll bet you within 30 minutes they're all gonna be totally wasted, and I'll be able to stroll out of this clearing and walk leisurely down to the Stargate with you."

Thirty-three minutes later, the moon had set, and it was a lot quieter. John looked around at the partied-out bunch lying around him and shrugged. He took the crown off, and suddenly the only light in the clearing was the fire slowly burning down behind him. "Rodney, you still there?"

"Of course I'm still here. Where the hell else would I be?" He switched on his flashlight and walked over to John, holding out his hand. "Let me see that."

"Where are Ronon and Teyla?" John handed the crown to Rodney.

"Hm? Oh, I sent them back to the gate after the fifth guy hit the ground. There's no reason for them to stand out here in the damp night watching other people have a good time." He examined the circle of metal and glass carefully, but there wasn't much he could see by a single flashlight. "Huh. Looks totally harmless." He gingerly placed it on his own head. Immediately, the lights began to dance over his head, although not quite as brightly as they had for John. "OK, that's enough of that. I'll take it back to Atlantis with us and figure out what it does. Besides induce Donna Summer Derangement Syndrome, of course." He looked up as John walked over to the small cask the natives had served themselves out of. "Whatever that stuff is, it's powerful."

"It'll probably go great in eggnog, too." John tucked the cask under his arm. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." Rodney turned and pointed his flashlight at the ground, walking back the way he had come. Suddenly, he tripped over a protruding root. "Crap. I run through a forest at midnight and don't so much as stumble. So much for caution. I'll probably break my neck in at least three places before we get back to the 'gate."

"I can fix that." John walked up to him, took the crown, and placed it on his head. Again, the shimmering lights chased away the darkness and painted the trees exotic colors of orange, yellow, blue, and green. A giggle floated through the night from one of the natives on the ground, but no one rose to impede their departure.

"If disco ever makes a comeback, you've got a bright future, Colonel."


End file.
